


A Helping Hand

by jmajerus



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Rhysand can't stop adopting people, spirit of giving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmajerus/pseuds/jmajerus
Summary: Ever since he was ten years old, Rhys has been volunteering at a community shelf event that takes place the day before Thanksgiving.  The same place he had brought Cassian and Azriel into his family, he finds himself drawn to a young woman that's drained of life and hope.  He helps her the same as he would help anyone else in such need, and yet he can't help but hate that he let her walk away.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 74
Kudos: 198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea and I couldn't help myself. I know I have other open fictions but once again, I couldn't help myself!

_It’s the most wonderful time of the year—_

Rhysand Night tapped the screen in his car to silence the radio. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. That was tomorrow. So it was still two full days too early for the radio stations to be changing over to Holiday music. But he knew the stores were already full of holiday trees and holiday lights. So he guessed holiday music had to make an appearance too. But not for him. He refused, _refused!_ , to be one of those people that skipped a holiday to overindulge in music everyone got sick of by Christmas Eve.

But no music left him alone with his thoughts and that wasn’t much better. It let him sink into the memories of why he was going where he was going today.

Long ago, when he had been only ten, his mother had brought him and his sister to a church the day before Thanksgiving. They had never been observantly religious and it had been a Wednesday so they had been confused. But then she had explained they were there to help those in need. Those who didn’t have enough to get by for Thanksgiving and the cold weather. And while his father donated to those charities, it wasn’t enough to just give money, you also had to give time. You had to see what you were doing to fully grasp why you were giving.

That year he had found Cassian, a homeless child only a year older than him, fighting an older male for the last blanket on the table. Cassian had almost won before the adult had sucker punched him and ripped the blanket away. That had been all he had needed to see before he had dragged Cassian by the hand to his mother and Cassian had come home with them that day.

Two years later, he and Cassian had come across Azriel, terrified and nursing two very badly burned hands. Rhys’ mother hadn’t hesitated to take him to the hospital. Hadn’t stopped fighting the social workers for Azriel to come with her instead of back to the abusive home that he had run from. 

It was only five years after, when he had been eighteen, that that his mother and baby sister died in a very bad mugging attempt. Rhys was supposed to have been with them but he had needed to study for his college entrance exams. That had been a particularly hard year, and several more after. But his brothers and cousin had pulled him through until he had graduated with both his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in business and had survived his internship under his father. 

And now at 36, he had been coming to the same church for 26 years, a tradition his mother had started, and he was continuing with. The same charity he had donated to from both his company’s profits and his personal fortune. 

Rhysand Night, the only CEO to turn down his yearly bonus in favor of it going to charity. Rhysand Night, the only CEO to go mingle with the downtrodden. Or, as his board members he wished to be rid of called them, the street trash.

He didn’t really care about the media publicity for him, but the ‘stunt’ as they had called it every year since he had taken the title when his father had passed, had given the charity a bit of a spotlight. From there it had boomed into something that could truly help many of the people that came through.

His phone ringing drew Rhys’ mind out of the past and into the present as he pulled into the parking lot. Looking around the parking lot he had picked out his brothers’ cars but not Mor’s. She had likely ridden with one of them since she only had her luxury car and nothing else. They had all made it a point to not rub luxury in the faces of those they helped. No suits. No designer jewelry. No luxury cars.

“Hurry up slow poke!” Cassian taunted when Rhys answered the phone. He didn’t even give his brother the decency of a response. Instead he just hung up and tucked his phone into his front pocket of his jean before exiting his car to join the other volunteers inside of the church.

It didn’t take long for Rhys to be assigned to a spot. The same woman that had run it when he was ten was running it now and she wasn’t cowed by his title. Unlike the other workers who scurried away from him, she had looked him dead in the eye and had sent him an area full of brown paper grocery bags stuffed full of Thanksgiving nonperishable goods. Azriel had been sent to help in the make shift medical clinic for vaccinations, Cassian had been set at a table full of children’s books, and Mor had been sent to distribute clothing. Places they all usually ended up every year and knew the procedures of like the backs of their hands.

Within half an hour the first people started to trickle in and by the end of the hour, the place was packed. Rhys quickly lost track of time as he settled into the polite conversation and handing over of bags along with resource cards to the people that came to his station. And all too soon it felt like he had handed over the last bag and everything had started to wind down. And as tradition dictated, he and his brothers and Mor gathered together with the other volunteers to have cheap church coffee and talk about the next year.

“Miss? Excuse me, Miss?” Someone was calling out and Rhys looked up to see a gorgeous young lady standing in the doorway of the church basement looking lost. A second, closer look, told him she had likely come for the help they gave. Her clothes were worn thin, her body too skin, her eyes hollow. “The charity event is over. You need to go now,” one of the volunteers had wandered over to her to direct her back out.

“But I couldn’t get here before now,” the woman’s soft voice carried in the echoing basement now that it was empty.

“I’m sorry. Try the soup kitchen tomorrow,” the volunteer told her kindly. 

The fight went out of the young woman. She seemed to deflate completely as she turned to leave. Rhys’ feet were moving before he even registered what he was doing. He wasn’t even sure what to say as he found her outside, sobbing in the parking lot.

“What did you come for? Food, clothes, supplies, vaccinations?” He asked, sitting down on the curb next to her. She looked up at him and that dead look in her eyes hurt him more than anything. It was the same look he had seen in Azriel’s eyes when they had found him. “Come on, up,” he stood her up, took her hand, and walked her back inside. 

Other volunteers watched as he plied her with a cup of black coffee and dug through the few boxes of supplies left. No food left but there were blankets and clothes that hadn’t been taken. 

“How many people?” Rhys asked her as he started to sort the clothes.

“Three, my father and my two sisters,” she spoke, her voice too soft.

“Four, with yourself,” he corrected. Her eyes glazed a bit and he wondered at why she didn’t seem to count herself. She clearly needed the help as well.

Before he had finished sorting the clothes, Azriel had appeared at her side with a medical form and quietly asked about her vaccination history. Rhys had missed the answer but by the number of needles that had come back when Azriel did, Rhys wasn’t sure if she had ever been vaccinated for anything.

“Now, about food,” Rhys started when she had been given all of her shots and had a good pile of clothes.

“It’s okay. This is more than I ever expected,” she bowed her head, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“Be honest with me. If you walk out of here without food, will you eat tonight, tomorrow, the day after?” Rhys found himself frowning as she didn’t dare meet his eyes. 

He reached for the wallet in his pocket and sighed with relief when he saw the bright orange, red, and brown of the gaudy gift cards the local supermarket sold. They had been intended for Nuala and Cerridwen, the twin sisters that cleaned his house, as a thank you for their hard work leading up to the holidays. But he could give them something else. This young woman was in far more need of those particular gift cards. He held both of them up to her. Between them a combined $1000, though she wouldn’t know that. He doubted she would have accepted them.

“Take these,” he pushed them into her bony hands. She looked almost like she was going to turn them down anyway, but he closed her hand over them without giving her much of a choice. He let his hand linger for a moment, almost in wonder as he felt some sort of pleasant pulse between them.

She was shaking by the time he helped her to the door and saw her on her way to the bus stop. When he returned, he found his family gaping at him. 

“What?” He demanded.

“How did we all lose that bet?” Cassian demanded looking to Azriel and Mor.

“What bet?” Rhys demanded, leveling his most disdainful glare at them.

“We know that look by now, Rhys. You wanted to adopt her,” Cassian explained. “Maybe we missed that Mom isn’t here to adopt her for him.”

“She needed help!” He cut across any discussion of how they had gotten it wrong.

“As did Cassian and myself,” Azriel informed him calmly. “She needed help and I expected you would adopt her to do so.”

Rhys glared at them. The thought had occurred to him but she was a grown woman. It was one thing if she had been a child in such desperate need, but bringing a grown woman home with him could open a can of worms. And she had a family. Two sisters and a father. Cassian and Azriel had been alone or in need of escaping their family.

“I didn’t even catch her name,” Rhys turned the subject away from him adopting her. “Let’s get going. I need to find a new gift for Nuala and Cerridwen.”

“Oh, I have just the perfect thing,” Mor jumped up from where she had been sitting, took his hand and steered him outside. Even as Mor shoved him towards his car, Rhys found himself looking towards the bus stop for the golden brown hair and heavy gray eyes the woman had had. His fingers twitched as they recalled that pleasurable pulse that had gone between him and her. But she was gone from the bus stop and an ache filled his chest.

_I didn’t even catch her name…_


	2. Chapter 2

As the scent of delicious food slowly filled Rhys’ lavish townhouse the next morning, Rhys found himself thinking after that young woman. Had she managed to get some food? Had the stores been too crazy for her to get anything? He worried she was starving. Worried she might not have gotten what she had truly needed the day before. There was more help he could have offered her. He could have offered her a job. He had a number of them open in his company at entry level that paid decently. He often made it a point to leave those jobs open for those in need of a step up in life. But he hadn’t asked her about any of that.

As he scanned his closet for something suitable to wear for dinner, he found himself wondering what that young woman would be wearing. Second hand clothes he had given her the day before likely. The bottom of the barrel but better than what she had been wearing. He hadn’t been able to give her a coat or shoes. Was she cold? Would she freeze when the temperatures dropped lower? 

The chime of a clock marking the hour from somewhere in the hallway made him remember he needed to change. Work out clothes were not suitable for this dinner. Mor would dress to the nines, as always. Cassian and Azriel would dress down a bit but still look decent. Rhys would bridge the gap. A button down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and tailored slacks. No tie, no jacket. A compromise between how he dressed formally and how he dressed down.

He fell into conversation with his family as soon as they arrived, and he popped back into the kitchen to thank Nuala and Cerridwen again for staying to cook, even if he had offered them the day off time and again. 

“We’d cook for just ourselves at home,” Nuala informed him tartly. “We’d rather do it here where we know it’s appreciated.” And Cerridwen simply waved him off. Both of them were wearing the gold earrings, necklaces, and bracelets Mor had directed him to the day before. Simple but beautiful all the same.

“I’m glad you’re here, you are family,” Rhys informed them. Family he paid well, but family all the same. They had been with him since before his father had passed. 

Food was served and as the silence of everyone enjoying their meals fell over the table, Rhys found himself thinking of the young woman once again, that ache in his chest returning. It felt like she belonged at this table though he knew nothing about her. Two sisters, a father, gray eyes, golden brown hair, and nothing else. He didn’t even know her name. It wasn’t rational but he couldn’t shake the sudden sorrow of her not being there.

“Who is going Black Friday shopping tomorrow?” Mor asked everyone to get the conversation going again.

“I prefer Cyber Monday,” Azriel’s quiet voice brought out the common Thanksgiving argument. Cyber Monday verses Black Friday. Where the better deals were, was it worth fighting people in the store, waiting for shipping, etc. Rhys sometimes involved himself in the argument but this year it seemed silly that this was what they argued over and worried about. The better deal for things they didn’t truly need. This year it struck him harder that people were out there not able to make ends meet to take part in such a commercial day.

“Well, Cassian is coming with me,” Mor announced.

“You never go where I want! You just use me to carry bags and part the crowds!” Cassian retorted.

“No way. Last year we went to that ridiculous store so you could impress some woman,” came the reply.

“And look how that turned out! I got nothing out of it so it doesn’t count!”

“We need more wine for this,” Azriel stood to excuse himself from the table.

The argument fell away and returned as dinner turned into desserts and desserts into drinking wine in the living room while Mor and Cassian made poor attempts at Christmas decorating with the boxes Cassian had hunted down in the basement.

“Feyre,” Azriel’s deep voice made Rhys turn to his brother.

“What?”

“Her name. You said you hadn’t caught it yesterday. Feyre Archeron.” Azriel’s voice was quiet enough not to draw the attention of Cassian and Mor. “We aren’t supposed to use any information on their medical sheets for personal use, but she did tell me her name and birthdate when you were busy digging out clothes for her. I can’t help if I remember them.”

“For the record—”

“She’s twenty,” Azriel cut across. “Twenty-one next month on the solstice.” Then Azriel left Rhys’ side to go separate Cassian and Mor as they tried to unsuccessfully untangle lights that would eventually decorate the tree after Azriel got involved. 

_Feyre…_

The name haunted his turkey and pumpkin pie fueled dreams, along with her golden-brown hair, gray eyes, and a smirk he was sure she could make happen with that beautiful mouth of hers if she ever had a chance to have the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders. And he wanted to do that for her, lift the weight and hold it off of her for as long as she needed, forever if he had to. He was convinced that her smile alone would make that worthwhile.

That thought chased him from his dreams well before dawn and he found himself sitting at his computer typing her name into the internet search engine along with her birthdate. There was nothing. No social media. Not even an address or phone number. No school records. Nothing to say Feyre existed on the internet. He was about to give up when he searched for just the last name and struck gold in news articles.

  * _Influential Socialite Wendy Archeron Dead at 33- leaves behind husband, and three daughters aged 12, 11, and 8._
  * _Merchant Prince, Idrius Archeron, Pleads Guilty in Embezzlement Charges._
  * _Idrius Archeron Settles with Court, No Prison Sentence_
  * _Local Community College Student, Elain Archeron, Wins Scholarship for Botany at Prythian University_
  * _Nesta Archeron and Thomas Mandray Announce Their Engagement_



Pictures along with each article proved to him that those were indeed Feyre’s family. She bore resemblance to both parents, more her father than her mother. And both sisters shared qualities with her. But still no articles on Feyre herself.

Scanning through the articles Rhys only found minor bits of information. Feyre’s mother had died of a quick spreading cancer, earning them some sympathy. Then her father had been caught in an embezzling ring and had pled out in exchange for information. Little else was said about either of them. Elain, it seemed, was some sort of genius with plants. And Nesta, a cold looking woman, had apparently been engaged, but Feyre had said her sister still lived with her. So either Thomas Mandray had opted for a long engagement as the article was over two years old, or something had happened to end the prospective marriage.

But still he was no closer to finding her. No glimpse of her picture, no information other than she had been eight when her mother had passed. Nothing to tell him where he might find her to see if she needed more help. But he wasn’t about to give up hope. It was unlikely her sisters’ had social media if Feyre didn’t but he still typed their names into the search engine. Nesta was a dead end. Her only social media presence was a professional page that marked her as a freelance editor. He turned to type in Elain’s name and was accosted with the number of pictures of plants that jumped off his screen under Elain’s name. Her social media was filled with pictures of potted plants thriving in some dismal looking doorstep. Not much to go on, except… yes… there—

One of the photos Rhys enlarged on his screen and zoomed as far in as his computer would allow. Just visible behind the bloom of one plant was a street sign. Spring Lane and something Way. He couldn’t see the full sign but it was enough for him to gather up him keys, a coffee, and make his way to the door to search for Feyre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please always comment. I love hearing from you all. It makes my day and encourages me to write. Also please check out my very slow posting of my original work Blessed and review for me. I love you guys.


	3. Chapter 3

Rhys had to admit he would consider what he was doing a bit creepy. He had searched up and down the entirety of Spring Lane to find where it cross with Magnolia Way, the only Way it intersected with much to his luck. And found himself looking at a stoop of a crumbling brick building that a stiff breeze could have knocked down. The porch held little pines in place of the blooms that had been displayed in the photos, but each pine had a little red bow on the top seeming to create some sort of festive mood in the a very slummy area of Prythian City.

And now Rhys was sitting outside in his car with the window cracked waiting for someone to exit the building or for it to be a somewhat decent time to go knock on the door. It had still been dark when he had arrived and dawn had only just happened. It would be at least another hour before he could reasonable approach the door and find some excuse to speak to her.

“FEYRE!” A screech split the air and a light flipped on not more than a couple minutes after Rhys had settled in to wait. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO PUT YOUR DIRTY HANDS ANYWHERE NEAR MY COMPUTER!” Another light flipped on and then another.

“I DIDN’T TOUCH YOUR CAULDRON CURSED COMPUTER!” Shadows began moving through the house in front of windows.

“THE KEYBOARD IS STICKY! IT HAD TO HAVE BEEN YOU, WHORING HALF WILD MONGREL. STAY AWAY FROM MY SHIT. ONE OF US HAS TO DO SOME REAL WORK.”

Two minutes later the front door shot open and slammed shut as Feyre herself came out and collapsed on the stoop, wrapping her too thin arms around knobby knees as she buried her face against them.

Rhys wasn’t even sure how to approach now. No part of him wanted her to be miserable alone but he couldn’t think of a way to not startle her.

“AND ANOTHER THING!” The door slammed open again and Feyre shot to her feet as a woman came out, Nesta, if Rhys wasn’t mistaken from his internet stalking. This time she was too quiet for him to catch her words but Feyre flinched against them. Then Nesta’s piercing eyes found him sitting in his car. Well, it was now or never, he decided as he got out of the car and tried to walk up the crumbling pathway. “Is this one of your clients, Feyre? Do your whoring at night where no respectable people will see you. And you,” Nesta’s gaze found him again. “You’ll burn in hell for paying women to fuck you.”

“Actually, I met your sister at the community shelf the other day and wanted to chat with her,” Rhys put on his most unpleased stare to meet Nesta’s eyes. Even if Feyre was prostituting herself, there was nothing wrong with it if she was being safe.

“That’s worse. Now I know where you got those shitty clothes. You and father might be fine wearing other people’s trash, but Elain and I are better than that.” Then Nesta went back inside, slamming the door once more, hard enough the windows rattled.

“She’s lovely,” Rhys announced. “Is Elain that lovely too?”

“Elain is lovely. Nesta is a raging bitch,” Feyre informed him, tearing her gaze away from the house. “Did you come here to gift cards back? I knew it was a mistake when I had them tell me the balance.” She reached into a back pocket and then was holding the cards out to him.

“You didn’t use them?” He asked his eyes trained on the pieces of plastic.

“I promise you won’t find a penny missing from them,” Feyre held the cards closer to him.

“But you need food, Feyre,” Rhys looked up to meet her storm colored eyes and saw her flinch.

“I couldn’t afford to pay you back if I used them and you came looking for them. And look, here you are for them so I wasn’t wrong.” She pushed the plastic back at him.

“I’m not here for the cards,” Rhys pushed them back into her hand. “Do you have a purse or something to grab. I’m going to take you to the grocery store so you can put some food in your kitchen.” He nodded to his car.

“If you aren’t here for the cards, why are you here?” Feyre asked, folding her arms over her too thin body looking more skeptical of him than ever before. “Despite what my sister accuses me of, my body is not for sale.”

He felt himself breathe out in relief at that information and the adamant way she had said it. Again, not that he believed there was anything wrong with sex work, but he felt better knowing Feyre wasn’t doing it.

“I was in the neighborhood?” He tried to say with a straight face but Feyre only raised one golden brown brow at him and he sighed. “Fine. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and wanted to see if there was anything else I could do to help.”

“Short of a miracle, there’s nothing that could help us,” Feyre’s head dipped towards the dilapidated house, more of a shack than anything else.

He knew he could be the miracle she needed. He could afford to buy her a new house and fix whatever issues they had without cramping his lifestyle or bank account at all, but he doubted that she would accept that sort of instant help.

“Well, I can at least take you grocery shopping so you can have some food in your kitchen and won’t starve.” He offered once more. “I have my car right here, $1000 on these gift cards, and I’ll even push the cart!”

Feyre scoffed at him, but her arms started to loosen from over her chest. She was starting to feel a bit more comfortable with him, enough to not need to guard herself fully.

“FEYRE!” Nesta’s voice screeched from inside. “I SWEAR…”

“Okay, let’s go,” Feyre started walking towards his car without waiting to hear whatever else her sister had to scream at her about and Rhys didn’t feel the need to stick around for it either. He unlocked his car and made sure Feyre was inside before he went to his door.

“No purse to grab?” He asked realizing she hadn’t got back for anything. She was barely dressed for the weather in worn leggings and a much too large sweater that went down to her knees.

“I wouldn’t have anything to carry in it if I did have one,” she shrugged.

“Seatbelt,” he told her with a nod to the strap. It took her a moment to fasten it before he even started the car. “No wallet or ID to put in a purse?”

“ID’s cost money and time to get,” she told him. “And I have nothing to put in a wallet.”

“Do you work?” He asked as they pulled away from her house.

“Odd jobs, temp jobs. The factories are usually looking for people to pay under the table when they don’t have enough people for a shift.” 

Rhys clenched his hands on the steering wheel. It was factories like that that he wanted to storm into, fire the people in charge, and clean up. But without them, Feyre likely wouldn’t have had money to survive, though it was unlikely she was being paid half of what any other worker was making.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“That’s not fair. You haven’t told me anything about yourself. I…” she froze, horror striking her face. “I don’t even know your name.” She folded her arms again, tight over her chest once more.

“Okay,” Rhys turned to give her his most charming smile. “My name is Rhys. I work at Night Industries. I’m 36, a Sagittarius, I like the colors black and purple, and I like to read wearing hot pink fuzzy bunny slippers my cousin got me for a joke.” He kept one eye trained on the road but the other was trained on Feyre. As he suspected, the quip about the bunny slippers had a small smile forming on Feyre’s lips and her arms were loosening again.

“Let’s see, that was,” she held up her fingers, her mouth moving as she counted silently. “That was six things and I told you two already so I owe you four.” She sighed. “I’m 20. I’ve never paid attention to zodiac signs because I think they are a waste of time. I like the color blue. And I like to draw and paint, but no bunny slippers.”

“I highly recommend a pair,” he told her, watching her lips quirk into more of a smile.

The entire ride to the store they traded information. If he wanted to know something about her, he only had to offer up the equal information first, and she would respond in kind. And by the end of the drive it was clear she didn’t trust him fully, but enough that she wasn’t crossing her arms to protect herself.

He followed her into the store and true to his word, pushed the cart and bowed gallantly to her to get her to lead.

Feyre was shy about shopping it seemed, not wanting to look to longingly at anything or pick up much. But Rhys was behind her. When she stared at a container of fresh cut melon for a moment and then bypassed it, he put it in the cart. When she only grabbed one box of rice, he grabbed five more. For every item she stopped to look at, or only grabbed one of, Rhys was behind her filling the cart. He noticed her paying attention and shaking her head at him, but he didn’t let up until the cart was overflowing.

As they were nearing the cash registers, Feyre froze and started to shake her head. Then she took a step back and another until she collided with the cart.

“What’s wrong,” Rhys asked trying to see what had her scared. Then a man in line with long blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail, dressed in a button down shirt and slacks looked up at them with a leer.

“Feyre! A pleasure to see you,” he called. “I’ll be just a moment,” he told the cashier and stepped out of line to approach Feyre, ignoring Rhys’ presence completely. “Come by the factory tomorrow and you can come work up in the office with me.” The man told her with a brazen look sweeping over her body. She flinched away from the man, clearly not enjoying his attention.

“I’m afraid Miss Archeron has other plans for tomorrow and for future employment,” Rhys stepped out from behind the cart to meet the man’s green eyes. They narrowed on him but he simply narrowed his back until the man grumbled something under his breath and returned to his line.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre whispered as if she had whispered those words a thousand times for the actions of others.

“Do not be sorry,” Rhys told her. “Here, take this and go get a coffee or hot chocolate for yourself at the coffee counter over there.” He shoved a $20 into her hand.

“This is more than what I need for a cup,” she told him. “What can I get for you?”

“White chocolate latte, extra whipped cream.” He gave the order with his eyes stayed trained on the man to make sure he didn’t approach Feyre again. When he did glance at Feyre, she held out the gift cards to him. He was not going to use them for this transaction, he had decided that the moment he had told her he was taking her to the store, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He doubted she would step away if she did know.

They met at the door, her holding two cups of coffee and him with the cart loaded down with bags of groceries and with a great deal of reluctance he drove her home, the man’s words playing in his head over and over again.

“Tell me what you can do for work,” he said as they unloaded the bags of groceries onto her crumbling porch.

“I can clean your house,” she offered.

“I don’t need a maid,” he informed her. “Could you work in a mail room? Sort mail and make sure it reaches the proper people? It’s not too hard.”

“I wouldn’t know of any place willing to hire me,” she bowed her head.

“I’m willing to hire you and my mail room always has openings,” he told her.

“I can’t be formally hired because I don’t have an ID and…” she frowned. “I can’t read so I can’t do the work.”

“Can you recognize words that are familiar?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I will pick you up Monday morning at 7 to get your ID sorted out.” He left her no room to complain as he turned and walked back to his car. “Goodbye Feyre Darling. See you Monday. Wear something nice.”

“See you Monday,” she called back. He was sure she thought he was out of hearing range when he heard her mutter a quiet ‘Prick’.


	4. Chapter 4

“That is not how you properly adopt someone!” Cassian complained when Rhys made it home that afternoon. 

Cassian had been waiting along with Mor and Azriel in his living room seemingly unconcerned with the fact Rhys had been nowhere to be found in the house. He had taken one look at Azriel upon walking in the door and his brother had known what he had somehow done. That bastard seemed to know everything. Without wanting to, Rhys had told the story of the morning.

“Oh?” Rhys raised an eyebrow at his brother trying to figure out what exactly he had thought would be done.

“You’re supposed to bring her home. Your mother always brought us home, made sure we were fed, clothed, and cared for!” Cassian threw his arms up in exasperation.

“Well, you can’t exactly do that to a full-grown woman,” Mor supplied. “If he had brought her anywhere but her own house, it could have looked like kidnapping. We aren’t kidnappers.” She turned her eyes from Cassian and looked to Rhys. “The mail room? She’s going to probably need a few decent skirts, pants, and blouses for work. Nothing too fancy. And she likely won’t accept anything new if she was as reluctant to take your help as you say. I think I’ve got a handle on her size after seeing her the other day. I’ll get on that.” Without a word of farewell, Mor left.

While Mor was a brilliant mind in the office, her true passion was shopping. Rhys knew that if she had set herself to the task of making sure Feyre was supplied with office clothing, Mor would want to get on it right away and would make sure everything was perfect for whoever she was shopping for. Feyre would be set with work clothing whether she wanted it or not. Even if Feyre didn’t want it, Mor would charm her into taking the clothes before she even knew what was happening.

“But you left her in that house! If you described it correctly, it’s liable to fall down around her ears! And that sister yelling at her! Even as an adult you can’t leave someone with that sort of abuse!” Cassian gave a tentative glance to Azriel who pretended not to notice.

“That whole area should honestly be condemned, but if I bring that up to the city, the people living in those houses will likely be homeless,” Rhys turned to his brother. 

They all remained silent for a bit, eyes wandering around the rich dark mahogany trim and plush red carpet that decorated Rhys’ fairly lavish townhouse. He had done a lot for people who hadn’t been gifted the many things he had been, but sometimes he still felt guilty for the luxuries he did have.

“Can I have the address?” Cassian asked finally.

“Are you going to bother her?” Rhys turned to his brother.

“No, scouts honor. I just want to see the neighborhood,” Cassian held up three fingers in a scout salute.

“You and I both know you were a terrible scout and have no honor,” Rhys grumbled but wrote down the address on a piece of paper for Cassian anyway. And then Cassian was gone.

“So Feyre can’t read,” Azriel stated when it was just the two of them.

“But if she can recognize familiar words, we can get her familiar with the different departments and names,” Rhys shrugged. “We’ve had far more complicated disabilities to work around for employment.”

“True. I’m just curious as to why she can’t read. Learning disability or lack of schooling… though her sisters seem educated so that should be ruled out,” Azriel put a finger to his lips as he thought. “I’m going to see if I can find school records for her. Maybe I’ll be able to see what we can do to correct her disadvantage.” Then Azriel was gone and Rhys was left alone with a smirk growing on his face.

He may have wanted to adopt Feyre, but it seemed his family also wanted to adopt her. Either way, he needed to call his head of HR, Amren, and give her the rundown on his latest rescue joining the company and see what else he might need in addition to an ID.

Come Monday morning, Feyre had been waiting on the sidewalk for him when he had pulled up. She was dressed in what he assumed was the nicest thing she could find which was some very worn black pants and a blouse that may have once been blue. Her golden brown hair was braided back. 

“Good morning,” he smiled at her as she slid into the seat. “Did you have breakfast?” He asked trying to make some small talk, but if she said she hadn’t, he would drive to the nearest bakery and fill her so full of pastries that she’d waddle the rest of the day.

“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Feyre turned to him. “What do I need to get my ID?”

“I’ve got that taken care of,” Rhys told her. Azriel had been more than helpful in using his searching to find not only her social security number but also her birth certificate. It would only be a matter of filling out the paperwork for her and getting her picture taken. “Coffee?” He nodded to the cup in the holder closest to her. Caramel mocha. He had taken a guess based on the remnants of the cup she had left in his car the other morning.

“Thank you,” she murmured picking up the cup. “Can I ask a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one in return,” he replied smirking at her. He saw her roll her eyes from the corner of his own and bit back a chuckle.

“Why do any of this for _me_?” She asked. “Is it that you are trying to get into my pants? My sister said that’s it but that seems like a lot of work and going out of your way when you probably have plenty of women throwing themselves at you. My dad said maybe you’re looking for a scapegoat for something.”

“And your other sister? Elain?” Rhys couldn’t help but asked. He knew beyond a doubt the first comment had come from Nesta. And her father likely had very little good to say of men in his level of business, so he could see that sort of questioning. But the other sister, he was curious what she had to add to the situation.

“She said it all sounded like some romantic fairytale,” Feyre snorted and Rhys let out his own dark chuckle.

“No, I’m not looking for a scapegoat,” he told her. “And I’m not doing this to get into your pants. I don’t think they’d fit me. You’re kinda scrawny.” He winked at her when she murmured a ‘Prick’ once again. “No, Feyre, this isn’t what your family thinks.” He had taken some time over the weekend to prepare for this question and now he was sure he had an answer she would both accept and was also truthful.

“I had the luck of being born into privilege, and with that comes a responsibility to help those that didn’t have that sort of luck. My mother instilled that in me long ago, along with other things like respect for women and their boundaries. So I made it a point to have jobs open for people who are down on their luck and need a hand up in life. That’s what this is, Feyre, a hand up.”

“But why ME?” She asked, emphasizing the ‘me’. “There had to have been hundreds of people that went through the church that day. Why pick me?”

“Because when you walked out of that church, I felt deep in my gut that I was making a mistake letting you go.” He admitted without meaning to. “And I’ve learned to trust my gut on people.”

“Oh,” was her only quiet answer. They rode in silence for a few moments longer before she spoke again. “What question do you have for me then?”

“Hmmm,” he thought hard about all of the searching questions he could ask her. He wanted to dig deeper into her life but he wanted to surprise her too. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Really?” She huffed out a breath and raised an eyebrow at him. He smirked in return. “Fine. In most cases, chocolate. But vanilla has its merits. My turn. White or dark chocolate?”

“I like it as dark as my soul,” he told her, trying to sound dark and mysterious.

“So white chocolate?” She asked and he let out a surprised chuckle. Oh, he liked her spark and he was certain his family would too.

“Caramel with your chocolate or peanut butter?”

“Oh, that’s a hard one,” she let out a hum as she thought. 

Their question game continued in a light hearted manner of food preferences as they drove to get her ID and continued as he drove her straight to Night Industries. Mor met them at the door that connected to the parking ramp.

“I’ll deliver her to Amren as soon as I’m done with her,” Mor told Rhys as she hooked an arm through Feyre’s. And just like many people before Feyre, and he was sure many after her, Mor’s magnetic personality drew her in as she pulled her away. She only spared one glance back, wide eyed, before she was gone around a corner, Mor’s sunny voice filling the empty back halls.

It was several hours before Amren herself stalked into his office, evicted his terrified assistant, and turned her swirling silver glare on Rhys. He prepared himself for the worst of whatever she was going to say. She usually disapproved of all his charity cases because they caused more work on her end. But in the end, she always relented that it was the right thing to do. But she always took her wrath out on Rhys for a while first.

“Really, Rhysand?” She snapped when Rhys simply waved a hand at the empty chair his assistant had vacated.

“I thought I had found a decent one this time,” Rhys told her, stroking the wrath so he could get to the heart of the argument faster.

“You could have done better for this one than the mail room,” Amren said finally, her annoyance very palpable but she was not yelling.

Both eyebrows raised at that. Usually she recommended lesser tasks or excessive management of the person until they were fully up to her standards. Never before had Amren suggested he could have done better than the mailroom.

“I ran her through all the competency tests verbally,” Amren tossed down a folder with Feyre’s name printed on it. “She’s smart and capable of learning quickly. I don’t doubt she will pick up reading very quickly. Talents are clearly in design but she’s got a good mind for budgeting and numbers.”

“What is your recommendation then?” Rhys asked, his mind already humming with possibilities.

“The mailroom for now until she gets a handle on the company, where the departments are, who is where, and her reading. Eventually we move her to accounting or administration somewhere.” Amren opened the folder he had left untouched on his desk. “I’ve assigned her a bus pass, work ID, and schedule. Look over her contract and make sure you are satisfied. I’ll speak with you on it later.”

Rhys found himself truly smiling as Amren retreated. If Amren approved of her, then Feyre was certainly going to be a great asset to the company, and for some reason, he wondered if she might be valuable to himself as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I appreciate any comments, ANY COMMENTS. Love you all.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t that Rhys forgot about Feyre as work picked up again that week or the next, but he did get buried under extra work that always hit right before the holidays. Bonuses had to be calculated and signed off on for every eligible employee, evaluations had to take place for every department to note any changes needed for the upcoming year, company charity events needed to be organized, and Rhys had added a bit to his own extra load by introducing legislature to crack down on factories bringing people like Feyre in to do a job at a lesser pay for a day.

But his family didn’t really let him forget Feyre at all. Cassian had taken one drive through the neighborhood that had reminded him far too much of what he had come from, and had set about complaining through every step of a new project he had undertaken. Mor had taken it upon herself to act as Feyre’s mentor, making sure she was settling in at the company well and supplied on coffee every morning. And Azriel had overturned Feyre’s lack of school records and had taken to creating a computer program for people in Feyre’s situation.

It seemed, Azriel had deduced, that Feyre’s sisters had been brought up with a private home school tutor but Feyre had barely started her education when her mother had passed and the tutor had abandoned them. She knew her letters but reading, especially out loud, tended to be her weak spot.

But it was precisely that he couldn’t forget her that he was sitting at his desk staring at the rows of Holiday bonus checks that had to be signed. One name was missing from them and it hurt him. Feyre was not eligible for a bonus because rules stated they needed to be there for 90 days before they could be. But he also didn’t doubt she would need the extra money. So he stared at the blank check his pen had been hovering over debating whether or not to say the hell with the rule and give it to her anyway.

In the end, he had decided not to. Or rather, Amren had caught wind of what he had been contemplating and had put an end to it. If he gave it to Feyre, he’d need to give it to all new employees. And while there weren’t that many, he would need to deal with any complaints of those that hadn’t received it in past years due to the same reason. So he had gone with that resounding no and had gone out during his lunch to buy a handful of gift cards instead. He still wasn’t completely sure how to give them to her without it looking like favoritism but he was sure he’d think of a way before the official holiday shut down.

He returned to his office to find the door unlocked and Mor sitting inside glaring at the pile of bonus checks he had already signed. He kicked the door shut behind him set his coat on the stand by the door and walked over to join her. None of the checks were displaced but that didn’t mean Mor hadn’t gone through all of them. She had learned just as well as Cassian, Azriel, and himself about how to search for information in other’s belongings without disturbing anything. He also never left anything out his siblings weren’t to have access to.

“Does my giving the worker bees a little more honey for their pots make you scowl so?” Rhys asked moving to take his chair again.

“Her name isn’t on one of those checks,” Mor stated. She didn’t even have to elaborate on which ‘her’ she was speaking of.

“I was reminded it is our company policy to not do so if they haven’t been hired for 90 days.” Mor opened her mouth to speak but Rhys cut her off. “I was also reminded that it’s favoritism if I bend the rules for her. And doing so now when we haven’t done so in the past for all new hires may not go over well.” Mor huffed out a long sigh.

“She could really use a nice bonus,” she explained. “Did you know she hasn’t seen a single penny from her paychecks? It’s all gone to bills and her viper of a sister spending it on new things for herself and the other sister.”

Rhys grimaced. He wasn’t able to control what happened to the money once the check was hers. While he paid her more than enough to cover bills, he hadn’t considered her sisters. But then, he doubted any amount of money would sate whatever need Nesta had.

“That is unfortunate,” Rhys sighed. “I don’t even know how to fix that.”

“I don’t think we can. The bonus would have gone to them too I’m sure.” Mor grumbled. “And some douche named Tamlin has been sniffing around the neighborhood offering to buy houses from everyone to get land for another factory.”

“I thought Cassian had plans for that area,” Rhys turned to his computer. Tamlin had been a name he had seen very recently and he was certain he knew where. Of course, the owner of the Spring Factories that occupied that section of town. And the man himself was the one that had looked Feyre up and down at the grocery store, had made her uncomfortable.

“It seems that this Tamlin fellow made a better offer to the city council for that area,” Mor rolled her eyes.

“Well, on the note of Feyre, I had a thought on how to give her a bonus without it being attached to the company but I could use your help I think,” Rhys waited as the smirk bloomed on Mor’s face. She always loved when he asked for her help. “I thought I’d give her some gift cards. Useful ones but also a couple frivolous ones.”

“Oh, that would be perfect! Nesta apparently refuses to use gift cards because they make her look poor. She won’t go shopping for groceries with the cards you gave Feyre at Thanksgiving.” Mor explained. “Now, where were you thinking?”

“I was thinking these places,” he took the cards from his wallet and set them down. The amounts had all been carefully inked on them. One to a nice boutique right down the street from the offices. One to a restaurant nearby. One to a café just next door to them with the best pastries and coffee. One for groceries. One for a local mega store. And one of the universal gift cards the credit card companies had done up.

“Well, if you already bought them why ask for my help?” Mor complained.

“I need a way to give them to her without it looking like favoritism,” Rhys complained.

“Ah, well, leave that to me,” Mor gathered up the cards. “I might toss a few in of my own.” She tucked the cards away and gave Rhys a smile. “Have you thought of inviting her over for the Holiday party?”

Rhys snorted. Unlike many people in his position and wealth bracket, he did not have what would be considered a lavish party each holiday season. Instead of inviting the most important and wealthiest people in town, he invited the people he actually liked, which ended mostly with his family and whoever they chose to bring as dates. They played horrible holiday music, ate a feast worth of appetizers and desserts, and downed enough wine to get an elephant smashed. Then they opened gifts and whoever gave the best gift of the year, usually him or Azriel, got an extra surprise. Whoever gave the worst voted gift, usually Mor, got a horrible gift that Cassian usually spent the year researching to find the worst white elephant style gift.

“She doesn’t need that sort of pressure over the holidays,” Rhys scoffed.

“There’s no pressure with us!” Mor scoffed back at him. “But, fine, whatever,” she started towards the door.

“Is that any way to speak to your boss?” Rhys asked, his voice becoming the cool, distant one he used when he spoke with idiots that thought they could cheat him or his people.

Mor didn’t answer, but instead threw a hand over her shoulder to flip him off. He smirked at her back and chuckled as he returned to work.

Only ten minutes later his work was interrupted once more as he heard a quiet knock on his door. He looked up expecting his assistant but then he remembered his assistant had been out with illness that morning.

“Come in,” he called and the door opened just enough for him to see a familiar golden brown braid. It was followed by the rest of Feyre as she shoved the door open, pulling the mail cart. “Miss Archeron, what a pleasant surprise! I didn’t know they had you doing rounds now.”

Feyre simply rolled her eyes and took a bin from the cart and turned to face him. He knew she wasn’t the one slated to do rounds. She sorted the mail into the bins for the person doing the rounds. And even then the mail cart never came directly to him as the mail was usually dropped with his assistant.

“Clare was out sick today. Some stomach bug going around it seems.” Feyre spoke calmly. “Where can I put this?”

“Usually it goes to my assistant for him to sort what I actually need to see and what just needs a signature from me,” Rhys sighed. He didn’t need this sort of task added to the ones he already had to do.

“Oh,” Feyre glanced back out at the empty desk.

“He’s out sick with the virus as well,” Rhys explained, following her gaze.

“Oh,” she said again and then looked at the letters. “I don’t know how much help _I’ll_ be, but this was the last bit of mail to be delivered so I can try to…” she blushed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how to tell what needs to be sorted to what you need and what you don’t.”

Rhys looked up at her, realizing he could use her help and that there was actually an easy way for her to do it.

“Hold that thought,” he told her. He stood and brushed past her out to his assistant’s desk and turned on the computer. A few moments later he had pulled up the cheat sheet that had been written by an assistant before they had left. It had been added to by each assistant since. 

“Here, if you can match the signatures to any of these names or companies, they go to me. If it appears to be a request for charity, set it on top of the pile. And any of these names over here, can automatically go in the pile to be ignored until much later.” Rhys showed her the lists on the computer. Feyre didn’t even acknowledge him as she set herself to the task at hand. Absorbed herself in it immediately.

He smiled at her and went back to work. He kept his eye on the door waiting for the moment when Feyre would need help, but he did manage to get some work done.

“Mr. Night,” Feyre’s voice came over the intercom on his phone. “You have a…” he heard a familiar murmur as she hesitated, “a giant pain in the ass to see you.”

“Send Cassian in,” Rhys chuckled. The door opened as he heard Cassian turn back to tell her which button to hit on the phone to end the call.

“Your assistant got much prettier,” Cassian announced after the door closed. “Now, about these proposals for my security department.”

Rhys was with Cassian for most of the afternoon. And when the end of the day rolled around, Rhys found his assistant’s desk cleared of mail, the computer shut off, and a neat stack of letters in his ‘important’ box next to his door and another left sitting in his assistant’s inbox. A quick glance through both piles told him Feyre had done exceptionally well. Nothing needed to be changed from one pile to the other. It was something to consider for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I might be a bit pissy at Nesta for no reason what so ever right now and I'm going to make her a worse villain so hold on. Also please go ahead and leave any and all comments for me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the torture commence

Christmas Eve saw Rhys working from home. The offices were all closed to grant his employees time with their families. That meant the doors were all locked and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get in, but he didn’t feel like powering up an entire building for himself to work until early afternoon. So he sat at his computer in his office at home while Nuala and Cerridwen started the preparations for the party taking place in the evening.

Rhys usually wouldn’t have worked on a holiday, something his mother had cursed at his father for again and again. Something Rhys had sworn he would never be. But his assistant had stayed out sick and hadn’t returned. Apparently it hadn’t been a stomach virus but some sort of anxiety disorder. Rhys was all for taking care of someone’s mental health but it had left him with a mountain of work he hadn’t realized had fallen behind, had been falling behind with his assistant for some time. 

Reports his assistant normally churned out and sent on without a second thought had sat for weeks undone. And while Rhys could do them, he hadn’t done them in a long time and it was taking him far more time than he would have liked. Hence why he was dressed in his best cable knit sweater and fitted jeans that were meant for the party, munching on a plate of cookies that Nuala had shoved at him when she had discovered his hiding place, trying to crunch numbers into a spreadsheet.

“Rhys!” Mor’s voice yelled from the main level. “Rhys!” There was an edge of panic in her voice that had him abandoning his computer and going for the stairs. Mor didn’t usually panic but he was sure it couldn’t be that horrible. Perhaps the wine cellar was running a bit low, or her favorite dessert wasn’t out yet. Perhaps the cable was down with the snow they had had the night before or heaven forbid they weren’t running 24 hours of A Christmas Story for her to watch how many times in a row. But all thoughts were out of his head as he rounded the corner for the stairs and saw Mor standing at the bottom with Cassian holding a very pale and shivering Feyre.

“What happened?” He demanded, running down the stairs three at a time. He didn’t even give them a chance to answer as he took Feyre from Cassian, feeling the frosty air coming off her skin. She was half conscious. 

“I went to go round her neighborhood this morning to bring some gifts and food to the people there,” Cassian started. “And her house was just… gone. She must have been outside all night. Just a pile of rubble.”

Rhys gaped. Her house, just gone. Had it been a fire? And Feyre had been out in the cold all night.

“What about her sisters and father?” Rhys demanded as he carried Feyre into the living room and started to wrap her with heavy fleece blankets. Were they out in the cold somewhere too?

He noticed a look pass between Mor and Cassian, a grimace and a bit of fury.

“I went asking around while Mor got Feyre into the car,” Cassian started. “It seems her sisters and father just left yesterday and the bulldozers were there within an hour to knock it down.”

“It was demolished while they were out?” Rhys demanded. What sort of sneaky bastard would demolish a family’s house while they were out of it for all of an hour?

“No,” Cassian shook his head. “The house was demolished after her sisters and father moved out of the house, Rhys.” He spoke gently but there was a cold fury that Rhys felt reflected in his own heart when he realized what had happened. Feyre’s family had likely sold the house to Tamlin and had moved out.

“Did she know?” Rhys asked.

“No,” Mor shook her head. “Last we spoke yesterday morning at work, they weren’t planning to sell.”

Rhys felt a coldness settle over his body. If Feyre had spoken to Mor at work about it the same day it had happened, then her family had done it all while she had been working. She would have come home to the house demolished and not knowing where her family was. It had snowed all night and indeed, she was chilled as if she had spent the night out in the cold.

“We have to get her warmed up,” Rhys murmured. “Someone make her some tea and I’ll run her a warm bath.” He knelt down next to Feyre, making a point to look into her barely open eyes. “You’re safe now. We will take care of you.”

It took most of the afternoon to get Feyre warm and settled in bed. Mor had left her in Rhys’ capable hands to finish her shopping. Cassian had made excuses as well. But once Nuala and Cerridwen had discovered Feyre was in need, they had removed any issues of propriety by making sure she was bathed, warm, and dressed by not him. Then when she was settled in the guest room, they returned to the kitchen and Rhys was left wearing a hole in the rug as he paced and cursed at Feyre’s family.

Azriel arrived first, apparently already apprised of the situation. And as Rhys found himself counting the gifts that came from the bag Azriel was unloading under the tree, he realized there was an extra.

“For Feyre,” Azriel explained without even looking up at Rhys to know he was watching. Rhys swore the shadows themselves whispered everyone’s thoughts to Azriel sometimes.

Cassian arrived half an hour after that with several extra packages tucked in his bag. He deposited them all under the tree and went to help in the kitchen as soon as he could. Then Mor arrived with her girlfriend, Andy, and between them they hauled in enough packages that Rhys wasn’t sure they hadn’t driven a moving truck to deliver them all. Amren arrived last, a puffball in her white fur coat. He always invited her but she often only chose to come to more formal events. Not usually the casual family dinners. She claimed she could only tolerate Cassian so long.

“No Varian?” Rhys asked her when he realized her boyfriend was not with her.

“No. He’s with his cousin for some big holiday party,” Amren explained. “I would rather be here than there.” She shrugged and went in search of a wine glass Mor was already pouring for her, filled to the brim with the darkest red wine anyone could find.

Food was put out, holiday music was set to play over the speakers in the living room and dining room, and wine glasses were passed around as everyone talked. It was already more subdued than it had ever been and Rhys was certain it was due to someone resting above them all in a guest room.

“Gifts?” Cassian asked when the conversation had gone quiet.

“Yeah, I guess we shall,” Rhys stood and went to grab the first gift to pass out when he heard a quiet, ‘oh’ come from the doorway behind him. He turned to see Feyre standing there, her hair loose, dressed in a long, knit sweater and leggings. “Feyre, grab some food and join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Feyre took a step back.

“It wouldn’t be imposing at all, Darling,” Rhys tried to flash her a smirk to try to bring that spark to life but she didn’t seem to be in the mood to play.

“Oh!” Mor jumped up. “You are just going to love how Cerridwen makes the apple tarts.” 

“Don’t let her forget the turkey!” Cassian ran to join them as Mor pulled Feyre into the dining room to load a plate with any appetizers they thought she might like. Within two minutes she was settled next to Cassian on one of the couches with a full plate and a steaming cup of what appeared to be apple cider. She looked a bit lost and Rhys was sure that look would remain for some time. But they could at least make her feel comfortable.

“Okay, so, gifts,” Rhys turned back to the tree. “You all know the rules. Best gift gets bragging rights for the year and a very lovely gift Nuala and Cerridwen assured me would be a great fit for me,” he smirked at his family. “Worst gift, by group vote, gets the booby prize.”

“I’m going to get the best one this year!” Mor exclaimed.

“Not on your life, Night,” Azriel countered. 

“First gift, Azriel,” Rhys tossed a box to his brother.

Gifts started going out and Rhys kept Feyre tracked in the corner of his eye. His family was not content to let her sit silent and unnoticed, drawing her into discussions on how good or bad a gift was as Azriel, then Amren, then Mor each opened on. But it seemed to be what she needed, because she started to relax. Or at least until the next box he pulled from under the tree bore her name. When he set the gift in her lap, she froze.

“But…” she looked at everyone and bit her lip then looked up at Rhys almost pleading. “I don’t have anything to give.”

“Make it up next year,” Cassian told her and patted the gift in her lap. “Come on this one is from me and you’re going to help me win dammit. Azriel and Rhys win far too often.”

With some goading from Cassian, Feyre unwrapped the gift. It was a beautiful long winter coat that would be guaranteed to keep her warm along with a scarf, gloves, and hat. They were beautifully made but Rhys doubted they would be voted the best gift and voiced that opinion loudly.

More gifts were passed out. Jewelry for Amren, only jewelry for her as they all knew what was good for them. Mostly clothing for Mor and books for Andy and Azriel. Rhys got mostly clothing from his family, something that happened most years. Mor had given him a cauldron awful bright orange sweater with a cat knit on the front of it. He nominated it for worst gift upon seeing it. Cassian mostly ended up with new things for his kitchen. He had a love of all kitchen gadgets, no matter how strange they were.

Feyre, by far, made out the best of all of them. Mor had gifted her a goodly amount of designer work clothing. Amren had gifted her a pair of pearl earrings along with a pearl necklace. Azriel had given her a tablet already loaded with the program he had been designing for her. And the final gift under the tree had Rhys frowning as he read the tag. It read ‘to Feyre from Rhys’. He hadn’t gotten her a gift. He hadn’t left since she had arrived and he wouldn’t have even known what to get her had he had a chance.

But all the same he handed it to her and watched her face as she unwrapped a very nice expensive looking paint set with brushes, sketch pad, and charcoal pencils all bundled together. Her eyes started to tear up and she looked up at him in complete shock. 

“How did you know?” She asked, her voice wavering. “Thank you.” It came out as a whisper and he realized how truly grateful she was for those things.

“Well, I guess that settles the best gift,” Amren informed them all. “It goes to Rhys this year. And that awful orange sweater gets worst.”

“Agreed,” Cassian piped in. The booby prize was handed to Mor and the extra present went to Rhys. They all laughed as Mor unwrapped a wine bra that would hold an entire bottle of wine. 

“See if I don’t use this!” Mor told them all with a laugh. 

Then Rhys unwrapped the gift the twins had bought for the prize winner and found a very nice watch with a deep blue face set with stars. It was perfect for him, but also would have suited Azriel had he won.

He wondered over the gift that had appeared from him under the tree but he didn’t voice the questions out loud as the night wore on and everyone continued to enjoy drinks and food. Cassian began not so drunkenly singing carols while Amren escaped. Azriel tucked into a corner to read, Feyre had the sketchbook open in hap lap with the pencils. Mor and Andy had disappeared somewhere and Rhys trusted that Andy was decent enough not to be having sex somewhere in his house. Mor had never earned that level of trust from him on her own.

Towards the end of the night Rhys found himself sitting next to Feyre on her couch watching as she sketched his Christmas tree with alarmingly accurate detail. She was good and he wondered if she was as good with the paints.

“I should probably find somewhere to stay tonight,” she murmured quietly when she realized he was sitting next to her.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. The guest room is open for you and I’ve got far more space than I need.” He told her realizing he didn’t want her to leave at all. What would she do if he asked her to stay forever? It was an odd request. They barely knew each other but he knew deep in his soul she belonged.

“Tomorrow I’ll start looking for a place,” she told him.

“Everything is closed tomorrow,” he reminded her as he stood and started to gather empty plates.

“The day after, then,” she retorted.

“Anything you say, Darling,” he told her with a flourished bow. So he had a day to convince her to stay. He had done harder things.

“Prick,” she murmured but went back to her drawing while he took the plates to the kitchen.

He was at the sink with the dishes for all of a moment before Mor found him and lifted his wrist to inspect the new watch.

“I’ll take my thank you anytime,” she told him with a nod to the watch.

Rhys almost gaped at his cousin. She had only ever given anyone in the family terrible gifts. Amren’s most gaudy jewelry came from Mor. The ugliest clothes, the worst books, the most horrible gadgets came from Mor. And yet, Rhys found himself reflecting on the clothing Feyre had taken from the bags and bags Mor had given her. They were all tasteful, all very fitting of Feyre. And Mor would have been in a position to know Feyre’s interest in art. 

“You give the worst gifts each year on purpose,” he accused.

“I like outdoing myself each year,” she grinned at him and hid a yawn. “Like I said, you can thank me any time.”

“What about those gift cards?” Rhys asked.

“I gave those to her yesterday in the morning and told her she was the company secret winner and not to tell anyone. All very hush hush. She didn’t believe a word of it but took them anyway.” Mor smothered another yawn. “I accept thank you’s in chocolate delivered to my office. Andy and I are heading out. I’m tired.”

“Where have you two been the last hour or so?” Rhys asked.

“Setting up Feyre’s room. Didn’t think you’d mind,” then Mor fluttered her fingers in a wave and left. He heard her calling farewells to Cassian, Azriel, and Feyre.

Well, if Mor wanted deliveries of chocolate, he would make sure she got them. He pulled out his phone to set a reminder for the following morning and then brought out another bottle of wine to see if anyone wanted to be topped off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanations coming. If I have time to write more this week I will but I have a 4 day christmas celebration with my extended family from Thursday to Sunday so not sure I'll be able to get another chapter in for you guys before next week. Apologies. But at least it wasn't a cliff hanger.
> 
> And as always, all squees, screams, curses, compliments, comments, death threats, etc welcomed with open arms because they make me want to keep writing.


	7. Chapter 7

As work resumed on the Monday following the New Year, Rhys found himself frowning at the email in front of him. It was from his now former assistant, a resignation and slight explanation. The work had been getting on top of them making anxiety spike until they had been unable to stand the pressure and had broken. He and his therapist agreed that the job was not what was best for him. So it was best he resigned immediately. 

Again, while he was happy his assistant was taking care of his mental health, he was a bit unhappy he hadn’t waited until a replacement was found. He buried his face in a hand as he tried to think of a suitable replacement. Then the thought struck him hard enough he almost reeled backwards. Feyre.

She hadn’t found a place yet, not that she hadn’t made a show of looking at the paper or listings that happened to have been printed for her. But she hadn’t settled on one yet. It might have been the excellent food that Nuala and Cerridwen plied her with. It might have been the all access cable that Cassian and Mor had begun suggesting shows on. It might have been her so enamored with her sketching and painting to bother with much effort. 

But he had found her after she had been there a few days, sitting in his office where he had left the computer up and the reports on the screen that he had been working on. He had taken a break and had come back to her happily plucking out numbers on the keyboard into the sheet. A glance over her shoulder told him she was doing it right.

“You can’t read, but you can do this?” He had asked in shocked.

“Words are hard for me, but numbers I get,” she murmured. “One of the factory managers taught me how to do it when he had some free time and saw I was interested.” She had kept going, whipping through the reports faster than he would have. And when he had tried to compensate her for her time, she had argued she had needed a holiday gift for him and this was something she had been able to give.

“Amren, dearest, please see me at your earliest convenience,” he called down to her. 

“I’m only going to let that slide because of the pretty diamond brooch you got me,” came the growl on the other end.

He chuckled and sipped at his coffee while he waited for the drake to come fry him alive. But Amren seemed to be in a decent mood as she settled into the chair across from him. She even flashed him a blood red grin with a pointed nod at the empty desk outside of his office.

“You want to discuss your missing assistant?” She asked without him even acknowledging the nod. “I can get an inquiry out today. Possibly start interviews next week. Call a temp agency to send a replacement until then.”

“Actually, I was thinking I might request Miss Archeron,” Rhys took another sip of his coffee while he felt Amren’s eyes bore into him.

“She might be an alright temporary solution. The mail room won’t miss her too much,” Amren started. “She might need a bit of phone training and her reading is coming along.”

“I was actually thinking as a permanent solution rather than a temporary one,” Rhys cleared his throat and waited for the inevitable strike. Just as Amren opened her mouth to snap he interrupted her, something he swore he would never do again. “You said she would be decent in administration at some point. And look at what she did with these reports over the weekend. She’s faster than I ever was at them,” Rhys handed over the evidence he had been waiting to give. He knew they were correct, he had checked them himself.

Amren flipped through the reports, one dark eyebrow raised. Finally, she set them back down on the desk but remained silent as she looked out the window. This time he did not interrupt her. He knew she needed time to think, time to process whatever was going on in that brain of hers.

“She will need some extra training, but I cannot deny she would be good at the position by what I’ve seen. I’ll speak with her today.” She rose and went to the door. “Oh, and Rhysand,” she called as she opened the door. “Pull this crap with me again and I’ll flay you and burn you alive.”

“That sounds like a threat, Ms. Drake,” Rhys replied calmly.

“Who are you going to report me to? HR?” She cackled and closed the door behind her. Rhys only shook his head and chuckled. Amren would no more flay him than she would abandon her position in HR though she had had offers. But she liked terrifying people too much and she had determined that was the position to do it from best.

At lunch Rhys did something he liked to do often, which was make his way to the employee cafeteria. It helped when his workers saw he ate the same as they did, at least a good amount of the time. He also made it a point to stand in line like everyone else. The CEO and Owner did not deserve to jump in front of anyone just by title alone. It also helped him to catch little tidbits of gossip as most people just ignored whoever was in line around them.

_So I told him, ‘I don’t care who your cousin’s mother’s best friend’s aunt is, you can shove you toupee up your behind’._

_I think the sales goals are a bit high for the upcoming quarter._

_Did you see that new mail room girl coming from the parking ramp with Mr. Night! I saw her get out of his car. Rumor is she spent the entire holiday week at his house!_

_Yeah, and she’s been in with the Drake all morning. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes for sleeping with the boss._

Rhys rolled his eyes. Gossips would say what they wanted. He hadn’t slept with Feyre though he certainly found her attractive. But that was not their current relationship and they had respected boundaries. But the comment about the sales goals, he would need to look into that one. He hadn’t thought they were set too high when he had looked at them last week but that didn’t mean his people wouldn’t think so.

“Mr. Night!” Someone called his name and he turned to see one of Cassian’s top security team members. He had dealt with the man often enough that he knew him both by face and name, David, and even knew the names of his two German Shepards, Molly and Lolly. “Fancy sitting with us today?”

“Sounds perfect to me,” he grinned at David who jogged back to his table. Gossip around him stopped as people realized who was by them, especially the ones that had been gossiping about Feyre sleeping with him. But one bold looking red head met his eyes.

“The Drake, I mean, Miss Drake, isn’t going to fire the mail girl, is she?” There was true concern there. 

“Not that I’m aware of. I doubt she’s done anything that comes close to a fire-able offense,” Rhys slipped his hands into his pants pockets and gave a shrug. And that would have been true even if they had slept together. They were stupid enough to forbid interoffice romances. They weren’t common but they did happen and no one needed to lose their jobs for being in relationships. And if relationships went sour, people were rearranged or someone left, but no one was fired for the relationship alone. All Rhys had his management stress to employees that were dating was that they be smart and professional about it during work hours.

“She normally takes the bus with me in the morning, but I heard she caught a ride with you today,” the bolder one raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’ll have to ask her what information she is willing to share about those circumstances.” He looked over the top of the women in front of him at the line. “I really hope they have that bacon mac and cheese today, and chocolate cake.”

Anything else that might have been said to Feyre’s situation was drowned out by agreement on the bacon mac and cheese and chocolate cake. Both were crowd favorites (including himself) and he knew that would redirect the conversation with hungry people.

After a rousing lunch of nothing but bacon mac and cheese and carrot cake, he had had to settle when the last piece of chocolate had gone to the lady in front of him, he returned to his office with the echoes of laughter from the security team in his ears. David had told some more funny stories of his dogs and was met by stories of children, pets, and Rhys had shared a couple tamer stories about Cassian that had left the men streaming tears from laughing so hard.

As much as taking lunch in the cafeteria usually took longer due to waiting in line and socializing, it was also rejuvenating. It always reminded Rhys that he loved his people and wanted to keep their best interests at heart with every business deal he made. Not just their profits that paid them all, but also protect the world in which they lived outside of work hours.

“Is there a reason Amren has had my lunch buddy all day?” Mor stormed into his office to demand just as he resumed work.

“Yes, there is,” Rhys told his cousin but offered no details as he typed away at an email. He knew it would drive her insane and he only had a split second warning before a stress ball slapped into the side of his head. He chuckled and set the ball on his desk before looking back up at Mor. Her eyes were alight with her annoyance but a small smile played on her lips, satisfaction from her direct hit, no doubt. “Something else I can do for you?”

“Feyre is at your house all week and now she’s locked in with Amren. I don’t like it.” Mor grumbled.

“I believe Amren is training her,” Rhys offered and nodded to the seat across from him just before Mor threw herself onto the couch by the window instead.

“For what?! And what sort of training deprives me of my lunch buddy? I need her to gossip about you with!”

Rhys chuckled as he saw the family dramatics come out. Mor had even thrown an arm over her eyes as she laid back on the couch.

“I don’t suppose you’ve had lunch yet?” Mor asked, perking up.

“Just got back from the cafeteria,” he confirmed, and she flipped him off. “I’m sure Feyre will be done training tomorrow and you can have her for lunch then.”

“Is she staying at your house again tonight?”

“I believe so. We made plans to meet at the parking ramp at five.” Instinct made Rhys look to the clock. It was only one in the afternoon but some part of him worried about being late even this early. He often was known to stay late or get caught up in a project and not go home right at five even with plans for the evening in place.

“I’ll just come steal her for dinner then,” Mor told him getting up.

“I’m going to lock the doors,” he grumbled.

“I have a key,” she laughed at him and fluttered a wave.

“I’m changing the locks!” He called as the door closed. He would do no such thing, but he liked the playful banter he and Mor had with each other. He hoped that he could get there with Feyre one day soon too, especially if she was going to be working with him more closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, screams, sarcastic back handed comments/compliments, any such thing you wish, please drop a comment to let me know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter of 2019! Thank you all for all of your support this year with my writing. I love you all!

“This is where you’ll find the paper files of my contacts should the computer system ever be done for longer than a minute or two,” Rhys pointed to several tall filing cabinets. “They are arranged alphabetically by company and then by last name within the company. Or just by last name should they not be affiliated with a specific company.” He opened one cabinet to show her the carefully labeled alphabetical tabs. He even took out a folder to show her the printed copies of the contact information. Nicknames, phone numbers, faxes, emails, even down to the person’s preferences for restaurants, things they liked or disliked, and their family members’ names.

“You know the name of Kallias Frost’s dog?” Feyre demanded as she looked at the contact sheet.

“You have no idea how it softens some people up to talk about their pets or kids, or that you remember the names of them,” Rhys chuckled as he watched her set the folder very carefully back in place. “Your reading is coming along very well,” he said quieter.

He expected Feyre to grumble or shrug it off and continue on as she seemed to do at the townhouse when he commented on her sounding out words, or when he offered a word she was spending too much frustration on. Instead she turned to look at him.

“Thank you, I’ve been trying very hard to catch up since Amren offered me this position.” Then she looked down at her shoes, classic and very worn black heels. “I hope I don’t slow you down too much.”

“You’re doing very well. Now it’s just practice,” he assured her. “Now, the most important job you’ll ever do up here,” he led her to the single cup coffee maker that worked by only loading a pod in and pushing a button. 

“Making your coffee?” She demanded, looking a bit harassed.

“Oh no, not making my coffee. Keeping Cassian from tampering with the coffee.” He lifted a jewel toned pod off of the rack and showed her that the foil on top had the tiniest hole in it. 

“He tampers with your coffee?” Feyre asked, looking aghast.

“He’s my brother,” was all Rhys would offer. “So, the most important job is never letting Cassian know I switched to the decaf ones at work months ago. Trying to cut back on caffeine unless I truly need it and such. And those are kept in the cabinet under the machine.” He watched Feyre look at the counter the machine was on and then at the very flat cabinet underneath with no obvious doors. Then he very gently lifted the counter, machine and all, and showed her how to access the boxes of pods he kept in the drop well under the countertop.

“Doesn’t he see this on the camera?” Feyre looked to the cameras all over the lobby.

“The coffee is in a blind spot,” Rhys lowered the cabinet again. “If you have a preference for a certain drink, let me know and I can get those pods too. I’d suggest storing them some place out of Cassian’s view. In the cabinet or your desk.”

“What does he do to the coffee pods?” Feyre eyed the one he had showed her.

“Sometimes it’s a laxative powder. Sometimes he empties the pods so I get hot water. Sometimes he likes to switch the lids to give me decaf. I usually run the pod, dump it, and wait for him to ask me about my day to figure out what he has done. I suspect this one is a laxative since there’s a hole in it. That’s the only time I see the holes in the top. Otherwise he very carefully peels off the top and reattaches it.” Rhys shrugged. “Azriel tipped me off before he started doing it and helped me rig the cabinet.”

“Cassian doesn’t know about the lifting top?” She gave it a test lift and set it back down.

“It looks identical to the one that was here before, that didn’t have any cavity inside for use.” Rhys turned to walk back towards her desk. “So beyond that, answer calls, deal with emails, manage my schedule, sort mail, help with some basic reports like you already showed me you could do.” He leaned against the wood of her desk.

Amren had taken a week to train Feyre. A week where Mor had tortured him for stealing her lunch buddy. A week where Feyre had been oddly secretive about what was going on. A week where Rhys had almost broken and asked Feyre and Amren when she was going to start. But now the Feyre was there and Amren had given him the extent of the training she had undergone in a week, Rhys was grateful for the extra time.

Amren hadn’t just walked her through phone and email etiquette but also had taught Feyre all of Rhys’ major clients and contacts. Had taught her short cuts on the phone and computer. Had taught her the emergency codes for security. Her reading and writing were slow but improving but she was on top of every other aspect of the job. And whatever Amren had said, Feyre hadn’t once asked him if he had been responsible for her getting the job. No, she had actually approached the subject of her being his assistant in a completely different light when they had been driving home from work one evening.

“I need to find my own place as soon as possible,” she had said and Rhys had almost crashed the car as the words had caused a visceral reaction to cause him to jerk.

“Have I done something to drive you out?” He had managed to find his voice after a moment.

“No!” She had rushed to assure him. “It’s just, Amren offered me the job to be your assistant and it’s a conflict of interest if I’m also living with you and I know I said I was looking at other places to live already, but now I really do need to buckle down and be serious about it.”

He had spent the rest of the car ride and the evening assuring her that there was no need to move out for that reason. In the short time she had been staying with him, she had carved out a space for herself. Nuala and Cerridwen loved her. Mor was over to bother her most nights. And he had already grown far too used to her being there.

And since they had had the conversation, he hadn’t seen Feyre looking for apartments or small houses, but Mor had confessed she had asked her her opinion. And Mor had given her the same answer Rhys had. It was not a conflict of interest. And if people talked, they talked.

“What can I do to help you get settled?” Rhys asked Feyre as he pushed off of her desk.

“I think we’ve gone through everything. Should I knock if I need you or would you prefer I call over the phone,” she nodded to the multiline system on the desk.

“If the door is open, a knock, if it’s closed, phone,” he told her. “I’m going to make some coffee, do you want some?”

“Sure,” she followed him back to the coffee maker to see what sort of options were available to her.

By the end of Feyre’s first week, he wasn’t sure how he had ever gotten along without her. Yes, she took a little longer with emails and messages, but she was sharp and never forgot a face. And besides the occasional ‘Prick’ muttered under her breath at him when he teased her on something, she was above and beyond professional.

And at home, there was no difference in how they had been before. Mor joined them for dinner. They watched a show or movie in the living room while Rhys spent time on his laptop playing games or researching stuff, and Feyre drew on her sketch pad. 

It would be in those moments, when it was just the two of them in the living room with her sketching or in the morning when she was attempting to read the newspaper out loud and while sipping a cup of coffee and eating toast that he realized how truly gorgeous she was. Yes he had noticed how beautiful she was before, but now he saw that spark in her. She was talented, determined, and had a sarcastic humor that left him laughing despite himself. And every now and then, their hands would touch or a part of her would brush against him and that same pleasurable pulse, the same one from that first day they had met in that church basement, would spark between them. And Rhys found himself wondering what that pleasurable pulse would be like if they kissed, or Mother forbid, they were entwined under the covers without a stitch of clothing between them.

Not that he ever indicated that to Feyre. He flirted, yes. He called her beautiful and teased her. But he never made it seem like he was serious because he needed her to be comfortable. He knew he needed her to stay. He knew he needed her to work with him comfortably. He knew he needed her to never think it necessary to move out of his house again. He needed her.

And yet, he couldn’t help when seemingly normal and ordinary dreams of them sitting together in the living room developed into soft core pornos of her mounting him, kissing him, and clothes flying everywhere until he woke up panting and in need of several very cold showers before he could face her in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

“We need to talk.” 

Feyre’s quiet words were backed by a conviction that had Rhys more than worried. 

Nothing ever good came from those words. Girlfriends broke up with him over those words. He had been notified of his mother and sister’s deaths over those words. He had been notified of his father’s declining health. Those words never were followed by something nice. They were always the harbingers of bad news and the only bad news he could think of from Feyre on a Saturday morning as they both sat in the kitchen munching toast and drinking their morning coffee was that she was moving out, or perhaps that she had started dating, or perhaps that she was quitting her job with him. None of the things he desired for their future together.

But despite his heart rate increasing to dangerous levels that had him setting down the coffee cup and vowing to stay on decaf for the rest of the day, and sinking feeling in his gut, Rhys forced himself to meet Feyre’s beautiful eyes. Eyes he drank in, afraid he would never see them again. He forced his normal smirk onto his face to try to lighten the moment somehow.

“Are you breaking up with me, Darling?”

“We aren’t dating, Prick,” she snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Well, if you aren’t breaking my delicate heart, then what, pray tell, makes you use the classic break up line on me?” He set the newspaper down as well to devote his full attention to her. Not that she didn’t always have the majority of his attention now.

“According to the crazy woman that kept calling last week, you have a heart of stone, so I doubt I could break it,” she chuckled and Rhys forced a laugh as well. 

One of the businesses he normally dealt with had brought in one of their newer managers for a meeting and the woman had called him repeatedly after to ‘discuss business matters’ more. Of course he had checked in with his normal contacts and they had told him their dealings were complete for now. It became evident the woman had been trying to lure him into a date and Rhys had let Feyre field all calls from her after he had turned her down.

“Fine, you don’t have a heart of stone,” Feyre rolled those gorgeous eyes at him. “You and Mor are so dramatic that I think it and your need for expensive clothes might be the only genes you two share.”

“I’m wounded that you failed to mention we are both gorgeously attractive,” he tried to push his normal banter and was rewarded with a snort. 

“Also very humble too.” Feyre chuckled with him and then let out a sigh. “Rhys, I’ve been living here for almost two months.”

He perked up at that. She was leaving then. Perhaps she had found another apartment and he couldn’t deny her a chance at her freedom but at the same time, he wanted her to stay. He almost needed her to stay. The house felt oddly empty whenever she wasn’t in it.

“Go on,” he urged.

“I have been looking at other apartments, but also, I’ve been looking for my family.” Her cheeks reddened at the mention of her sisters and father and Rhys felt the sudden urge to punch someone.

All three had moved out that day and had left her no clue where to locate them. All social media had been blocked, no phone numbers, no word of where they might have possibly gone. Rhys had even considered hiring a private investigator, but he also had considered just telling Az to find them. But Feyre hadn’t asked for his help digging that deep so he hadn’t gone there yet.

“So I’ve been looking for apartments with four bedrooms because I can afford that now, but there are waiting lists for them, or at least ones in semi decent areas.” She flushed. “So I’ve put my name on waiting lists to be notified when one opens up, but it could be months. And I’ve intruded on your hospitality for a long time already.”

“You hardly intrude. Cassian intrudes. Morrigan intrudes. You, Feyre Darling, are not intruding in the least,” Rhys rushed to assure her.

“Sure, whatever you say,” she rolled her eyes. “So, I can either find a smaller apartment to hold me over for now—”

“I don’t see why you can’t just stay here,” Rhys cut off whatever plans she might have been making. “Really, Feyre Darling, you aren’t intruding. I actually like having you here.” He had said it before but he doubted he ever sounded as sincere about it as he did now. He didn’t want to come off sounding desperate or needy but at the same time, he didn’t want her to leave.

“Eh hem,” Feyre cleared her throat, “as I was saying. I could stay here as well, if that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” he smirked at her. “If you weren’t listening, I’ll say it again. You don’t need to leave at all.”

“Well, in that case, we need to speak about the arrangements of me living here.” She took out a piece of paper that had a series of numbers on it. “I did some digging into public records for the area and found the cost of the house and did some estimates on your monthly bills. Based on those, I think it’s only fair I pay half of that in rent to you.”

Rhys looked at the numbers noting that a good number of them were high. She had even included the costs of Nuala and Cerridwen to be his housekeepers and cooks. She had calculated his monthly groceries including the bottles of fine wine they enjoyed at least once a week with dinner. Premium cable, the best internet, the HOA fees he paid to keep his sidewalk and driveway clear of snow and lawn mowed in the summer. She even had an estimated mortgage on the list.

“That’s not necessary, Darling,” he pushed the paper off to the side. “No rent needed here.”

“I eat food, I use water and electricity, and cable, and internet. The twins look after my space and do my laundry too. I occupy space here, so I should pay rent,” Feyre pushed the paper back at him and produced a second smaller piece of a paper, a check, already filled out and signed. “For the last two months. And I’ll pay you for this next month out of my next paycheck.”

“Feyre,” he took the check and glared down at the amount. He knew if he ripped it up, she would know and fight back somehow. And one of his family members were bound to help her. They all loved her more than him. Even dear Amren. He didn’t doubt Amren would help make a direct deposit into his account. “This isn’t necessary at all.”

“It actually is,” she told him, folding her arms.

Rhys looked long and hard at the stubbornness settling into every line of her body, likely deep down into her bones. She would hold firm on this and he wouldn’t have a say. No. He would need to give in on this matter even if he didn’t want to take money from her at all. She made a decent amount as his assistant but he knew she would need to save that money for things she actually needed, like that four bedroom apartment if her family ever returned to her. He somewhat hoped they didn’t for her sake.

“Fine then,” he took the paper she had written her figures on and took a pen from the counter. “If you insist on paying me rent, you are paying too much.” He started to cross out numbers. “Energy and water saving appliances make this cost actually much lower,” he pointed to the utilities. “And my cable and internet is a combo deal.” He scratched out that number. “We may eat well, but my grocery cost is less than that. I buy that wine directly from the source, keeps it cheaper for me, especially when I buy so much of it. That lowers this cost drastically.” He slashed another line. “And my mortgage was paid of ages ago, so that cost is nonexistent.” He crossed it out and then started to total up his final cost and divided the total by three to come up with the much smaller number she would be required to pay.

“There isn’t a third person, why three?” Feyre pointed to the equation and Rhys flashed her a smirk.

“Do you not agree that Cassian and Mor are here as often for meals, movies, using internet, spending the night on weekends, et cetera.” She snorted in response.

“And I suppose they drink more of your booze than I do.”

“Far more, Darling,” Rhys turned the final number back towards her. In fact, if he back charged them for every bottle of his good stuff they had drank while he wasn’t around, he could pay the townhouse off a second time. “I won’t accept a penny more than that each month and I do not accept backpay.” He held the check up and tore it in half, and then in half again. “I expect rent on the first of each month, not a day sooner but no later than 2:53 AM on the first.” He quirked his mouth into the smirk he knew she wanted to slap off his face. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Feyre rolled her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s that, or don’t pay rent,” he shrugged. “Any checks delivered to me after that point will not be accepted.” He smirked when she rolled her eyes. Of course, he didn’t expect her to wake up in the middle of the night to pay him. Who would get up in the middle of the night to pay rent when they didn’t have to? He certainly doubted that Feyre would.

Not a week later, the conversation was out of his mind as he settled into bed. Turning off the lights, he settled between the black silken sheets wearing nothing more than his skin. Like most nights, he listened to the darkness around him, hearing nothing but the gentle breeze against the windows and little else. And he drifted off to sleep knowing the house was safe.

In his dreams he was standing on the other side of the street watching his mother and sister be murdered in that mugging gone wrong. The man that had done it was a faceless black mass than Rhys had never learned the name of. He had been caught and was serving life in prison, that’s all he had cared to know. But now he watched as his mother begged for the man to let her daughter go. As the man shot his sister first, then his mother. Listened to them screaming, calling for him. He could hear their voices. _Rhys, RHYS, RHYSAND!_

“Rhysand!”

His eyes snapped open and there was a dark mass over him. He jerked back until a gentle hand came to rest on the side of his face.

“Rhys, it’s Feyre,” she murmured softly.

“Feyre?” He tried to wrap his mind between seeing those murders and then the woman standing over him. From being on the street watching, to being in bed. Caught between two worlds but that gentle touch on his face grounded him.

“Just Feyre,” she murmured. Then she let go of him and he almost cried out at the loss of contact. But she only turned on his bedside lamp, bringing a soft glow to the room.

He took her in. Her golden brown hair was loose, flowing down over her shoulders. Her face was scrubbed clean of any make up. And she was clothed in shorts and a loose t-shirt. A glance at the clock showed him it was after 1am.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly. “Did you need something?” He pushed himself up and realized very belatedly that he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. He pulled the sheets up over his lap to make sure he was covered.

“I was coming to bring you the rent. It is before 2:53,” Feyre nodded to the bedside table where the check sat right in front of the clock. It took a moment and then he remembered the conversation where he had made that stupid demand. Of all the people, only Feyre would make sure she met those demands. “But you were thrashing and crying out in your sleep and I thought it best to wake you.”

Rhys looked again from the check, to the clock, and then back to Feyre, piecing it all together. Piecing the dream together. The nightmare came at random times and it was never the same. No, they hadn’t know who had died first or if anyone had begged for the other to be released. He didn’t even know if his mom or sister had been given a chance to beg or call out for help.

“I have nightmares too,” Feyre’s soft voice brought him back from the street to the bedroom. “Sometimes I see the creditors come and wreck my father’s leg once more. Sometimes I dream of what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to come up with the mortgage each month, my sisters and father and I all out on the street. And sometimes I dream of Christmas Eve when I came home and no one was there, the house was gone.” She hesitated a moment. “Sometimes I dream of where I would be if I hadn’t gone to the church that day, if I hadn’t met you.”

“Feyre,” he breathed out her name.

“I don’t know if I could ever say ‘thank you’ enough for all you’ve done for me,” she murmured. “And I don’t expect you to want to confide in me. I’m not really anyone. But I am here if you want to talk, even in the middle of the night.”

“Would you stay,” he asked before he even processed what he was asking. “Stay with me tonight, please. Just a little bit.” He didn’t want to be alone. Once that nightmare surfaced, he rarely slept any more the remainder of the night.

Feyre eyed him, her lips turned down into a frown, and he prepared himself for the rejection that was so very clearly coming his way.

“You need to put on pants first,” she said finally.

“Deal.” He breathed out a sigh of relief, fully aware she saw that too. And then he made to get out of bed to find some pants to sleep in but froze, realizing he wasn’t even wearing a pair of underwear to cover himself. “Would you be a dear and grab a pair out of that dresser for me. Second drawer down,” he pointed to his dresser by the wall. Feyre obliged and returned with a pair of soft silk pants he used on the rare nights he did sleep with something on.

Then they were settling into the bed together on opposite sides, but together. With the lights off again he focused in on her quiet breaths, knowing she was still wide awake even if she was facing away from him and him from her.

“Feyre?” He murmured her name.

“Hmm?”

“You aren’t no one. You are someone very important. I just want you to know that.”

He heard the whisper of sheets moving and then a warm, soft body pressed against his back. Feyre’s arm came to wrap around him. Emboldened by her, he turned his body to find her facing him. Slowly he moved his arms to wrap around her body.

“Is this okay?” He asked softly.

“Mmmhmm,” came Feyre’s murmur of acceptance. 

Rhys wasn’t sure how he fell back asleep with Feyre pressed against him. All he knew was the moment her breathing eased into the slow deep breaths of sleep and the way she nuzzled against him in her sleep. And then his alarm was going off, waking them for the day for work.

“Rhys,” Feyre murmured his name when he shut the alarm off with a groan.

“Yes, Feyre?” He expected some sort of comment about spending the night together. Hoping she wasn’t about to tell him it would never happen again or some other regret she was about to spill to him.

“I wanted you to know that I’m glad I stayed last night,” she told him softly. “I was having a bad night too.” Then she was shifting out of the bed and heading for the door. “And I also want the record to show, I did pay rent on time.”

The only response he could think of, was to toss his pillow at her, missing as she dodged out of the door laughing the whole way down the hall.


	10. Chapter 10

Rhys didn’t want to admit that something had changed between him and Feyre since she had spent the one night with him. He didn’t want to call attention to the way they sat closer together on the couch in the evenings, or the way that he couldn’t tear his eyes from her when she was speaking, or how electricity seemed to slide over his bones whenever she handed him his morning coffee and their skin touched. He didn’t want to admit those things to be true because he was terrified it would scare Feyre away from him. He was afraid she would put the distance back between them if he pointed out the changes.

But that thought was also in the back of his mind as work increased as spring came and brought with it new contracts, appearances, and lobbying for the new legislature he was trying to push through to stop idiots like Tamlin from operating on labor under the table.

In one of his talks with Feyre over a quiet dinner, she had revealed there were many more workers in that area underqualified for work but needed to pay the bills. They all worked under the table for assholes like Tamlin who paid something like $100 a week for more than 40 hours of hard labor. Practically enslavement of the poor that were forced to live in the dilapidated areas around the factories.

In addition to his talks with her on the conditions in the factories and around the factories, he had done his research on the area and had added to the bill he had written and proposed to the senators he knew very well. Senator Helion Day had vowed to take up the cause after a long phone conference.

The bill being perfected and presented included harsh penalties for factories paying anyone under the table, school funding for the areas in need, additional resources to help those ineligible to work to find suitable employment or get what they needed to be employable, and improve housing conditions in the area.

In addition to that, he was working with Cassian on funding a charity for that area. Much like the community shelf he volunteered with every year, it would help supply food, vaccinations, clothing, and necessities to qualifying individuals or families. Pamphlets listing entry level employment, free training, and a code to use the program Azriel had created for education were already distributed all throughout the lower-class neighborhoods of Prythian. Already Amren had had inquiries into janitorial and mail room jobs listed from his company.

“Mr. Night,” Feyre’s voice shook just slightly over the speaker. He frowned. She rarely called him Mr. Night. The few times she did it was for show of a client or someone she assumed was official. The rest of the time she just called him Rhysand or Prick while at work. At home, it was firmly Prick or Rhys. And that shake in her voice, that bit of apprehension he could feel twisting in his gut as it twisted in hers.

“Go ahead, Miss Archeron,” Rhys tried his best to maintain his cool tone of voice.

“Mr. Tamlin Spring is here insisting he has an appointment,” Feyre’s voice shook a little more as a male voice snapped beyond the phone ‘ _He WILL make time for me if he knows what is good for him!_ ’

No wonder her voice was shaking. Tamlin Spring was the ass that had likely sexual harassed and abused her while paying her pennies for her time. And no there were no appointments on his schedule as he was busy working on the legislation, which Feyre was well aware of. So this was an intrusion, a belligerent one it seemed.

“Send him in, and then when he is behind the door, call Cassian and brief him of the situation.” Rhys informed her. He could handle himself against the ass even if he came armed.

The door opened and a sneering blonde came in, looking first to Feyre still at her desk, and then to Rhys himself. Already Rhys had a low opinion of the man, and the way the man sneered at Feyre put him on dangerous ground.

“Thank you, Miss Archeron,” Rhys called and nodded to her to come shut the door. When it was closed, he nodded to the chair in front of his desk, hoping Feyre was already making the call to Cassian. He didn’t trust the man in front of him one fraction of a bit. “How can I help you, Mr. Spring, was it?”

“You can help me a great deal, Rhysand,” Tamlin’s voice was cruel and sharp. Rhys bristled at the use of his name. Most people started with Mr. Night unless someone else introduced him by his first name. But this man had only seen him once, wasn’t introduced, and now felt entitled enough to presume to call him by his first name.

“Mr. Night will do,” Rhys informed him, watching his green eyes start to smoulder with the embers of rage. “What is the nature of your abrupt disruption of my scheduled work?”

“My sources in the government inform me that you are the one pushing for the Velaris Bill. I’m here to ask you to stop—on behalf of the good of the people, of course.” Tamlin sat back in his chair and waved a hand vaguely at the window as he said people.

“Ah,” Rhys sat back as well. “Pray tell how it would harm the people to have decent working conditions, hazard pay, cleaner air and water, and housing that will not fall down around their ears?” A muscle ticked in Tamlin’s jaw and Rhys noted it, as well as the slight shift forward the man made.

“You are taking away jobs from those who need them by putting those requirements in place. Factories will not be able to hire as many people and thus overwork the ones that they do have.” Tamlin shrugged. “So I implore you to search in your heart to stop pushing your Velaris Bill.”

“I see,” Rhys turned back to his computer and clicked open one file and then another. After scrolling through a series of pages Rhys found the one he was looking for. “Of course I’m only looking out for the common man. So I will certainly stop pushing my bill, but I need some answers to some questions first.”

“Of course,” Tamlin’s eyes lit up with the glee of a spoiled child getting their way.

“You are Tamlin Spring, are you not?” Rhys asked.

“Of course I am! You already know that.”

“On top of purchasing a third estate this year, this one on the coast it seems, you have been buying up the land around your factories in town. Often displacing the inhabitants.”

“I have not displaced anyone!” Tamlin growled. “They were compensated and sold their land and houses to me.”

“Some did. Others were apparently threatened if they did not give in. Some have been unable to find housing for what they can afford, even with your not so generous purchasing of the one place they had. One particular young lady found herself facing a pile of rubble when she went home and was left without a place to live on Christmas Eve.” Rhys doubted he would stop hating the man or Feyre’s family for that alone. The fear and horror it had caused her, the constant anxiety of her family’s whereabouts. 

“That is not my concern,” Tamlin growled. “What they did with the money is on them.”

“Which brings me back to your concerns about not being able to afford to hire more people and take care of them properly. I’m sure you could always take a pay cut to help matters, for the good of the people.” Rhys pressed a button on his phone and the door swung open with Cassian’s hand on it. “Fight the bill all you want. I will continue to push for it. Cassian will escort you out now. Do not return without an appointment. That is a warning, not a request.” He made to sit back down as Cassian reached for Tamlin’s arm, but Tamlin ripped his arm away.

“A piece of advice to you, your secretary is only good for a quick lay. She’ll say no but she won’t fight too hard. Gives shitty head—” Rhys didn’t hear anymore as he crossed the space and made to punch the blonde in his pretty face. But Cassian was already there, a hand around Tamlin’s throat, lifting him from the floor and cutting off his words.

“Say one more word about how you raped her and no one will know where you’ve gone, and right now I doubt anyone would care,” Cassian growled softly.

Tamlin snarled at Cassian but wisely held his tongue. 

“Good, now let’s get you out of the building before I refuse to hear you say no, pretty boy. We can see how good you are,” Cassian gave Tamlin a once over that had the man paling slightly. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tamlin hissed.

“Try me,” Cassian gave a smirk that usually set Rhys’ teeth on edge with the need to punch the man, but right now he was loving every second that smirk graced Cassian’s features.

Sure, Cassian sometimes found pleasure with men, but they were always willing. Rhys knew better than anyone that Cassian, anyone in their family really, would never touch someone that way without their permission, but Tamlin didn’t need to know that. And that seemed to be the trick of it as Cassian followed behind while Tamlin left, moving faster than most people did to get to the elevator.

There was a moment of silence before another figure filled the door and Feyre slipped into the room with a cup of coffee in one hand.

“I thought you might want this,” she told him softly, putting the cup firmly in his hand.

Rhys looked her over, from the golden brown hair she had braided and rolled into a bun at the back of her head, to the dusting of freckles over her nose, to her sincere gray blue eyes. And all he could picture was her telling that man no and not being heard. Of her likely having no hope anyone would believe her as that man abused her and the position of power he held about her with money alone.

“Did you ever report him?” Rhys asked, his voice going soft in a way it only went for her. Her eyes flickered with a deep hurt that he had uncovered.

“They all just said it was my fault,” she whispered.

“It wasn’t,” he rushed to assure her.

“I know, or at least, I do now,” she tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.

“Then let’s make sure he can’t put another woman in that position again, shall we?” Rhys turned her toward his computer. “I’d like you to go over the points of this bill with me. You are my expert, after all.”

That night, the thoughts of Feyre crying while Tamlin hurt her woke Rhys from his sleep well before midnight. But they made sure he was wide awake and very willing when Feyre slipped into his room not more than ten minutes later to ask if she could stay once more. He didn’t push for whatever nightmares had chased her from her own bed, but with his arms around her and her body pulled tight against his, he was able to settle his mind and heart enough to allow himself to wait until the morning to start dismantling Tamlin Spring’s empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up. Please leave reviews, comments, suggestions, anything.


	11. Chapter 11

Rhys was torn, utterly torn, between throwing his computer out the window, or hunting down Feyre’s family and beating the hell out of them. He hadn’t intended to discover what had happened to them. He hadn’t intended to stumble on that information at all. Instead he had come across it when Azriel had sent him every file on Tamlin Spring’s personal computer and phone, including all of his emails. One of which was a back and forth between him and Nesta Archeron negotiating the sale of their land and house. Including snippets such as:

‘People in the neighborhood say you aren’t planning to sell. I’m quite disappointed you’re going back on our deal.’

‘No, we are still planning to sell. My sister has flights of fancy that she is in charge. I expect the full amount before we vacate.’

And a phone call record between the house and Tamlin, recorded as he spoke with Feyre’s father.

‘The place you are sending us to is not large enough for myself and my three daughters.’

‘Ah, that is because you’re youngest wasn’t planning on joining you. Feyre and I have been seeing each other and she is planning on moving in with me.’

‘Feyre has been seeing you, Mr. Spring? That doesn’t sound—’

‘She’s been asked to keep it quiet, but I assure you it is true. You want her to be taken care of, don’t you? After all she’s done for you?’

It explained more than it didn’t. Why her family had left without a single word about it to her. Why she had had no idea they were selling. Nesta had arranged the selling and her father had agreed to leave her behind. So when Feyre had gone home that night… what had Tamlin expected? Had he expected her to come running to find him when her family was gone and the house was demolished? If he ever saw Tamlin again, he’d kill him. And then he’d place the body outside of the expensive apartment he had sent the Archeron family up in.

Worse than knowing this information was knowing he would have to tell Feyre. She would be crushed if she found he had kept it from her. But that meant admitting he was looking for evidence to prove Tamlin was doing bad enough things to have cases opened against him in all sorts of government agencies. Spring was a big enough name that a full blown government investigation and media covered failure would be the only way to completely destroy him. Any other easier way meant Tamlin could play the victim, when a victim he certainly was not.

Rhys printed out the transcript of the emails and the phone call. Feyre would want to see them with her own eyes. And he wouldn’t delay long. Tonight, he decided, after dinner. They would be home so if she got upset she could be some place comfortable. And if she needed a friend that wasn’t him, Mor wasn’t too far away. And if she needed the day off after a rough night, he would happily give it to her. And then send Cassian over to spend the day feeding her any sweets and comfort food he could come up with.

Those papers felt like 100 pound weights added to his briefcase as they packed up their work for the night and headed toward the parking garage. He could feel his heart start beating harder as Feyre glanced at him for the fourth time like she knew he was a wreck inside. And he was only a wreck because he was going to hurt her. There was no way this information wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay, what is it?” Feyre demanded when they got in the car. Her eyes were trained on him now.

“What is what, Feyre Darling?” Rhys asked, trying to keep up the playful banter they normally had.

“What looks like you’re about to tell me you ran over my dog,” she told him, eyes still boring into him.

“I wanted to wait until we were home,” he sighed. “Until we were somewhere you were comfortable.”

“So, you did run over my dog,” she kept her face straight.

“I know what happened to your family.”

He expected her to cry or yell as he spilled all he knew. Scream, or sob, or anything at all, anything except the silence that followed his full admission. Anything except the blank stare ahead. He was about to find a safe place to pull over to try to coax her out of the shock when she blinked.

“I guess that explains a lot. Nesta would have done that and I can certainly see Mr. Spring planning such things.” Then she scrubbed at her face. “I guess I don’t need to find a large place to move into. One-bedroom apartments are easier to get a hold of right now. I bet I could be moved out by next weekend if you wanted.”

Rhys did find a place to stop at that rate. Pulled over his car and turned to Feyre to take her hand. 

“You moving out is the last thing I want,” he told her firmly. “I didn’t find this information to give you incentive to leave. And I didn’t tell you because I want you gone.” He brushed a thumb over the back of her hand. “I love having you as a roommate.” He met her eyes so she could see the extent of his honesty.

“Fine,” she gave an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose someone needs to throw things at you when you preen too long in the mornings.”

“And who would rip the covers off of you when you ignore your five wake up alarms?” Rhys retorted. She scowled at him, but the general mood of the car had lightened enough that Rhys felt comfortable resuming the drive home.

It turned out Feyre did not need the next day to off to be comforted by Cassian’s cooking. No. Rhys had thought it would go that way still when Feyre crawled into his bed just after midnight, no longer stopping to ask permission. She didn’t need it as far as he was concerned. But when morning came, she was up and getting ready by his second alarm on his phone in the morning. Not one trace of the abandoned girl that had sought comfort with him was there as she sat at her desk, confidently typing numbers into reports for him.

He would have thought she was over it completely had it not been for an email to him from Azriel that told him Feyre had called down to him on her lunch break asking if he could help her find Elain Archeron’s contact information.

In brief talks about her family, Feyre had revealed her older sister was every bit as charming as Rhys remembered of his brief interaction. Her father was just not all there anymore. Depression was eating him alive far worse than the leg injury he had sustained due to creditors taking what payment they could in blood. But Elain, Feyre always had nice things to say about her. Elain was always about sunshine and helping others. She was the gentle one. The grower of things. Her shortcomings were simply failing to see where she could have been helpful rather than a burden.

But if Feyre was going to reach out to anyone in her family, he doubted Nesta would be a good choice. She was too proud and stubborn to give Feyre any decent information. And her father? Well, he hadn’t done much to improve their lives when they had fallen on hard times so Rhys doubted he would say if anything was wrong now.

Azriel also blind copied Rhys on the email response to Feyre, giving her Elain’s phone number, email address, and the street address of the apartment. Rhys tucked that information away and then watched to see if the little light on his phone that marked Feyre’s office phone in use lit up. But it only did with incoming calls.

Feyre sat on that information for two days before Rhys went to drag her out of her room for a movie and heard Feyre’s voice catch on “Elain? It’s Feyre.”

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but part of him wanted to be right there if or when the call went badly. He knew Feyre was tough enough to handle anything thrown at her, but he wasn’t about to let her handle it alone. But the call seemed to be going okay as Feyre asked about how they were doing, asked if they needed anything, and assured her sister she was indeed very well taken care. Then Feyre shifted slightly.

“Ellie, you should find somewhere else to live. I don’t trust Mr. Spring. Don’t move into any buildings he owns.” She pleaded softly. “Be careful and call me back or text me on this number if you need anything.” There was a pause and then. “And you can stop listening in on my phone calls Rhysand!”

Rhys huffed a laugh at the minor annoyance in Feyre’s tone as he rounded the door to see her sitting on her bed, her phone already hung up and away from her ear. She raised one eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

“I was worried about you,” he answered the unspoken question. “And wanted to see if you wanted to watch a movie. I have popcorn, and beer, and—”

“We have pizza!” Cassian’s booming voice came from the main level.

“And CUPCAKES!!!!!!!!” Mor cried out. “Let’s get this movie rolling!”

“And… I may have mentioned that I was planning on watching a movie with you to the others,” Rhys chuckled. Feyre’s eyes danced with amusement at the entire situation. That she found his family’s intrusion amusing rather than an imposition put her so far ahead in his books that he was half tempted to kiss her.

“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Feyre informed him, hopping off her bed. “Which horror movie will make Cassian pee his pants?”

“Oh, I have just the movie!” He offered with a laugh as she skipped forward to take his outstretched hand. The spark of electricity and warmth he always felt when their skin brushed, radiated up and down his arm pleasantly, and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his face, a mirror to the one on hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers. Just want you to know that you are amazing, wonderful, awesome people. You matter, your feelings are valid, and you are damn sexy. You are important. Remember that always.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review review review! I love all comments, questions, squeals, screams, suggestions, death threats for tormenting you all...


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